I’m feeling grumbly. The first two days of the routine of waking up at 6:00 and walking the labyrinth were exciting and new and fun in an odd sort of way. Part of how I have always defined myself is by those things that I will do that others won’t. (Like jumping in the ocean at midnight on New Years.)

Last night Mark said that he wasn’t going to wake up at 6:00. He sounded (or rather, I heard him as sounding) defiant and determined. And I know that in the past, if he gets woken up in the morning, it’s hard for him to go to sleep, so partly to “hero” him and partly to “hero” myself (because its always about me at the bottom layer of any “heroing” that I do), I decided to simply walk the Labyrinth when I woke, rather than setting an alarm.

I woke up countless times in the night thinking, “I don’t want to walk it now!” It was dark a bunch of those times. I didn’t even do the contortion to see the clock to see what time it actually was, deliberately not looking at what time it was.

I finally got tired of this game at about 8:15. I got up. Today it really is pouring rain. Yesterday it only sounded like that.

I got up, dressed, fed the animals (I’m stalling, I know I am), and then finally head grudgingly out to walk the labyrinth. This beautiful art form, magical place that has been calling me to it for weeks now. I went grudgingly. When and how did this happen?

I have made it a “chore.” I don’t want that. I loved the idea of a commitment to it, and I can see that I did have a commitment, just not one that looks like what I apparently think a commitment to a routine should look like. My commitment was to come when she called, and to listen for her call.

I noticed that I didn’t walk the labyrinth yesterday or the day before after I’d done my walk and blog in the morning. I had time, and on other days, I might have heard her calling, but I don’t think I was listening. In fact, I was pretty stuck yesterday, stuck in my thoughts about crazy personas. Uncomfortably so. But did I head out for the wisdom of the labyrinth the way I have since it was built? No. I wasn’t listening.

So, today, I’m learning about what commitments actually look like for me. And I find that I like the one that I had. To listen in each moment to what wants to happen, to where I feel the most aliveness and support for growth. I felt it in when I was asked to wake up at 6:00 the next morning, but I thought that was something other than what it was.

There are other ways to play with routine, and I will look for those.

I like the magic of the labyrinth, and I allowed my ego structure to take that magic away. I may decide each morning when the alarm rings that I want to take that time to walk the labyrinth, instead of laying in bed while Mark gets up and gets ready for work. But I will stay in the moment, checking anew for what wants to happen.

Anytime I decide I “Have” to do something, things shift for me, into something sticky and tarry.

So, today, right now. I’m choosing this moment. I can already feel the pull of the concert tonight, a pull that I wasn’t feeling yesterday. I know that I “have” to sing, because I made a commitment, but I want to sing because it brings me joy and aliveness.

As I was walking the labyrinth in the rain I had this funny experience of being both really grumpy that I was there walking in the rain, and also loving the sounds of the water droplets plopping on my leather rain hat, and the dancing ripples that appeared in the rain puddles in the spirals. As if I were popping from a stuck place, out to joy, and then popping back again. Grump, Joy, Grump, Joy. . .What I notice right now is that my right hand is tingling a little as I type and that I am appreciating the shimmery quality of the rain as it blows sideways past the window above my computer screen.

Breathe Here Now. LOL! I never once thought that in the labyrinth this morning. My tool, my trick for getting me back into the moment. And yet I still managed to pop out to joy in the midst of my sturm und drang. There’s hope yet!

Laughing at myself.